


No Hard Feelings

by sifuhotman



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Canon Universe, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, M/M, MSBY Black Jackals - Freeform, Post-Time Skip, Sexual Content, The mental gymnastics Sakusa does in this one...It Exhausted Me, friends who boink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-15 12:41:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28938666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sifuhotman/pseuds/sifuhotman
Summary: In Sakusa's defense, having sex with Atsumu was a complete accident.At least, that’s what he told himself the first time it happened. And all the times that followed.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 71
Kudos: 702
Collections: SakuAtsu Fics for Midterm Procrastination, haikyuu friends who boink, skts, ♧SakuAtsu Fics♧





	No Hard Feelings

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lunarins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunarins/gifts).



> Hi [Hannah](https://twitter.com/hanoorins). I tried to make this short for you but failed. Oops. Happy birthday!

In Sakusa’s defense, having sex with Atsumu was a complete accident.

At least, that’s what he told himself the first time it happened. And all the times that followed. But it gets harder and harder for Sakusa to convince himself of that with each subsequent drugstore trip he makes for condoms and lube.

He can’t remember how it went down, except that he’d been horny and bored and Atsumu was horny and available. They were on the way back to the MSBY Black Jackals complex after a particularly grueling match in which they’d barely scraped a win. Atsumu wasn’t in the best mood and spent the entire walk bitching about Komori picking up his serves. His voice echoed in the stairwell, and Sakusa listened, sort of, but mostly, he tried not to pay attention to the unfortunate circumstance in which Atsumu’s ass was in front of his face the entire walk up.

Instead of crashing into his own bed, Sakusa unintentionally wound up in Atsumu’s apartment with Atsumu’s mouth wrapped around his dick.

 _Miya Atsumu_ of all people. Absurd. Ridiculous.

And Sakusa’s current reality.

Sakusa flinches at the loud commotion beside him as he pulls on his shirt. They’re in the locker room after practice, and Adriah is enthusiastically sharing a particularly grisly retelling of a beach handjob from earlier in the week. Sakusa is sure there are some embellishments here and there to capture his audience’s attention—namely Bokuto, Hinata, and Inunaki—but they eat it up just the same. Sakusa sighs. Sometimes he wishes his teammates came with an off switch.

“You’re all animals,” Atsumu comments, which is pretty ironic considering his insatiable sex drive.

“Don’t act like you’ve never done it on the beach, Miya.”

“‘Course not. Yer dick would catch sandburn before havin’ a good time.”

“Always a critic.”

“Akaashi refuses to do stuff like that,” Bokuto says, as if anyone asked. “He said anywhere in the apartment is fair game. But he’s pretty picky otherwise.”

“Probably because outside of your home is _public,_ ” Sakusa says. He’s the only rational person here. The rest of the MSBY Black Jackals share one collective brain cell that has room for precisely three items: volleyball, food, and sex.

“Aw, c’mon. Don’t be boring.”

“I think you can get ticketed for public exposure.”

“I’d _love_ to get ticketed for public exposure.”

“Ew.”

“Where’s the craziest place you’ve done it, Sakusa?”

Sakusa feels Atsumu’s eyes on him. His mind flickers back to three weeks ago when Atsumu somehow convinced him to fuck against the railing of their apartment building’s rooftop patio. It wasn’t a crazy location so much as it was a crazy decision, because one of them probably could’ve died. Sakusa had chastised himself after and promised himself that he’d never do it again. “I don’t have sex.”

“Liar. Everyone has sex.” Inunaki jabs an accusatory finger at Sakusa. “I bet even you do. Even though I’ve never seen it.”

“I would hope you don’t see _anyone_ doing it, Inunaki-san.”

Adriah barks a laugh as Inunaki throws Sakusa a withering look. Of all the Jackals, Inunaki is the unlucky bastard who has walked in on various teammates in many compromising positions. 

“I’ll find someone for you,” Inunaki adds. 

“Kindly do not.”

“I _will._ And soon you’ll be able to spill about all your sexy, exhilarating affairs with the rest of the team.”

“Even if I had affairs of that sort,” Sakusa ducks as Adriah chucks a towel in their direction, “I wouldn’t be telling you about it.”

Sakusa rolls his eyes at Inunaki’s whines and slams his locker door shut. Atsumu diverts attention back to him by bragging about getting a blowjob in the first-floor vending machine room in the Osaka gymnasium.

The tips of Sakusa’s ears go hot. He hopes no one notices.

The thing is, Sakusa isn’t looking for anything serious. Or casual. Or anything, really. He’s dated before, but given his current lifestyle, he doesn’t have room for it anymore. Sakusa doesn’t have the mental space for it, either. Dating leads to overthinking, and Sakusa would much rather expend his energy practicing volleyball and trying to keep up with his sponsorship commitments.

Inunaki can try to set him up all he wants. Finding someone—for sex or romance or otherwise—has never had a steady spot on Sakusa’s ever-growing to-do list. He hadn’t been looking to get laid the time he and Atsumu first slept together; he never plans on those sort of things; they kind of just happen.

Then again, he definitely hadn’t been planning on still being in an extended friends-with-benefits arrangement with Atsumu, either, so he supposes there’s always room for a surprise.

* * *

After the first time it happened, Sakusa called up Komori in a panic. 

“It’s going to be weird,” he told him. “I have to see him every single fucking day because of practice.”

“Relax.” Komori’s voice was easygoing as ever, crackling through the tinny speaker of Sakusa’s phone. “It’s not like there was a break up or anything. It’d be different if there were feelings involved, but there wasn’t, right? It was just sex.” 

“It was just sex,” Sakusa repeated.

“Exactly. So it’s only weird if you make it weird.”

Sakusa made a strangled sound of frustration. “But it’s Miya. He’s always fucking weird.”

“And now he’s fucking you.”

“Shut up.”

Komori broke into laughter that made Sakusa want to punt him through the phone. “I’m kidding, Kiyoomi. Lighten up. It’ll be weird for a few days or a few weeks, and then your brain will forget what Atsumu’s penis looks like.” Sakusa’s eye twitched. He did not need a reminder about what Atsumu’s genitals looked like. “Then things will be normal again. Just act natural.”

“Natural?”

“You guys are friends, aren’t you?” Are they? Sakusa hadn’t been aware of this. They’re partners, for sure, possessing the unbreakable bond between a setter and a spiker. But Sakusa never really considered Atsumu a friend.

“I guess.” 

“So just keep being friends. Nothing has to change.”

“You make it sound easy.”

“How’d it even happen, anyway?

Sakusa paused. “It was an accident.”

“Huh. Funny.” Komori snorted a laugh. “My dick never ends up down someone else’s throat by accident.”

“Fuck off, Komori.” Sakusa hung up right after that. He didn’t need to put up with this bullshit. 

Acting natural, though—he could do that. He could totally do that. Sakusa Kiyoomi could _definitely_ do that.

He was so natural, in fact, that when Atsumu knocked on his door later that evening, asking if they could talk, Sakusa let him in without hesitation. Sakusa went along with it, awkwardly stumbling through a brief conversation about what had happened, and next thing he knew, they were fucking on the kitchen floor. That was a very natural progression that sent Sakusa deeper into his crisis.

Once is an accident. Twice is a coincidence. The third time—and everything beyond—is a pattern that Sakusa doesn’t even think about choosing. It’s a part of his routine now, even several months later, and Atsumu is part of that routine. 

Now, looking back on it, Sakusa realizes he and Komori might have different definitions of ‘natural.’

* * *

Inunaki doesn’t let it drop. He pesters Sakusa into passing over his dating profile—which hasn’t been updated since university—and marvels at the fact that Sakusa had a ninety-nine percent match rate despite only having one photo on his profile.

“You get dick from _this_?” Inunaki exclaims as he stares. 

“ _Got._ Past tense, Inunaki-san. I haven’t touched it in months. Maybe years.”

“You don’t even have anything in your bio.”

“That’s factually incorrect.”

“ _‘I play volleyball’_ doesn’t count.”

“But it’s something.”

“I’m not going to tell you what to do,” Inunaki says, as if he doesn't already give Sakusa unsolicited advice ranging from recommended movies to how to take a good dick pic. “But you’re not doing a very good job of selling yourself.”

“I’m not trying to sell myself.” Sakusa snatches his phone back and shoves it into his pockets. Inunaki is sitting in the row in front of him on the bus, propped up and turned around in a way that can only be described as ‘unsafe’, clutching the headrest of his chair as he tilts his head at Sakusa with sly eyes.

It only took him about one hour into the ride to Sendai to wear down Sakusa’s stubborn _No._ Ever since Inunaki declared he’d try to find Sakusa a suitor—or whatever—he’s been oddly clingy. Like Sakusa has been adopted by a nosy, helicopter older cousin.

“Will you stop looking at me like that?”

“You dated Ushijima-kun, didn’t you?”

Sakusa sighs. “Yes.” It’s a bit of a taboo subject. It hadn’t been bad, necessarily, but Sakusa hasn’t talked about it with anyone. It’s a mundane thing of the past, he still sees Ushijima frequently, and sometimes it’s still awkward between them. But they’re cordial. Professional. Friendly, even. They wish each other good luck, text each other happy birthday, and smirk at each other across the court. “That was a while ago.”

“But no one else ever since?”

“No, Inunaki.” Sakusa rests his head against his seat as he slumps back. “No one else.”

“What about—”

“No.”

“You didn’t even let me finish my question.”

“Ah, lay off him, will you?” Atsumu kicks his feet up on the seat next to Sakusa from his place across the aisle. Sakusa frowns at the dirt-caked bottoms of Atsumu’s sneakers and inches closer to the window. “Omi Omi prolly has some secret boyfriend he ain’t tellin’ you about for a reason.”

Inunaki ignores him. He holds out his hand for Sakusa’s phone again. Sakusa shakes his head. “C’mon, Sakusa. I’ll revamp your dating profile and have people flocking to your DMs.”

“I don’t need people flocking to my DMs. Stop treating me like a science project.”

“You’re so boring.”

Inunaki turns around in his seat and pouts, finally resigning that he’s lost the battle—for now. 

“You ain’t interested in seein’ anyone, Omi-kun?” Atsumu grins at him innocently, as if he hadn’t spent the last fifteen minutes before their departure jerking him off in the bathroom stalls.

Sakusa turns away without responding, though he feels a shiver run down the back of his spine. He tucks his legs in the seat in front of him, slouches back, and closes his eyes for the rest of the ride, and definitely doesn’t think about Atsumu’s eyes on him.

* * *

They squeeze out a win from the Adlers in the last two points of the fifth set. Hinata scores the final point with his nasty quick attack, Atsumu’s toss so perfect that it’s absurd. Sakusa watches the ball go spinning deep in the right side of the opposite court, and his eyes immediately flicker to the referee for confirmation.

The whistle blows, and cheers erupt in the stadium. The scoreboard flickers from 17 to 18, and Sakusa clenches his fist as his chest rises and falls with heavy breathing.

Later, Sakusa’s chest rises and falls with heavy breathing for a different reason.

“Y’know, if you tell Wan-san to back off, he’ll do it.” Atsumu currently has his fingers coated in lube as he pries Sakusa apart. The lube is cold; his fingers, warm. 

“Why are you mentioning _that_ —” Sakusa breaks off to swallow a groan, “—right now?”

“I’m just sayin’. If that’s what you want.”

Sakusa tries to pull Atsumu down by hooking his arm around Atsumu’s neck to avoid having to show his face, but Atsumu resists. Instead, his free hand comes up to push back Sakusa’s curls in an almost tender manner despite Sakusa’s complete disarray. The hotel room is dark and the bedsheets smell a little like chlorine, but the atmosphere doesn’t matter.

Atsumu works him with the same meticulous attention he gives his tosses. He’s a great sexual partner, a fact that Sakusa begrudgingly accepted after the third time. It’s almost embarrassing how good Atsumu has gotten at it, tugging at every last nerve in Sakusa’s body until his muscles tremble and he feels like he’s going to die.

In return, Sakusa has learned Atsumu’s body. He’s learned that Atsumu likes firm handjobs and neck kisses and sex that’s a little rough. Atsumu has no preference for how or where or when, but almost always says yes. They’re compatible in this way, and it’s almost as easy as their spiker-setter partnership.

“Are you insinuating I _want_ to leave Inunaki in charge of my dating life?”

“I dunno.” Atsumu’s eyebrow furrows with focus and he purses his lips as his fingers curl, and Sakusa’s vision momentarily grows fuzzy. There’s something unbearably hot when an attractive man thinks this intently about making you feel good. “You’re usually direct when you want someone to quit buggin’ you, and you haven’t said anythin’ to him yet.”

“Are you still going to keep talking about this?” Sakusa pauses again as Atsumu slips another one in. “With your fingers? In my ass?”

“You keep answerin’ me.”

“There’s this thing called timing,” Sakusa says through gritted teeth. Atsumu leans in to give one sloppy kiss against the side of his jaw, the other hand skimming the length of Sakusa’s torso and settling on his erection. “Maybe you could learn it.”

“I’m pretty sure I know timin’ pretty well. So I can speak to that.” With one last firm push and pull, Atsumu lines up their hips. Sakusa looks up at him, blonde hair and amber eyes wild and electric. It’s been the constant in their arrangement, a palpable energy that Sakusa could get lost in if he gave himself permission to.

“You talk too much—” Sakusa’s snarky response gets cut off by Atsumu’s hips snapping into motion, and just like that, he’s pulled back under. 

Atsumu feels solid against him, a hot and thick mass that hovers over him. Sakusa has come to enjoy the feeling of being caged in and of doing the caging. When he can no longer keep his eyes open, caught up in the euphoria of yet another fuck session, his mind has a flicker of recognition that he hasn’t gotten laid this consistently in a long time. Not even when he was in a long-term relationship.

The thought is mildly alarming, though not enough to distract, and Sakusa finishes right as Atsumu hits the ceiling of his stamina.

When it’s done and Sakusa’s cleaned up the sticky mess that’s pooled on his stomach, Atsumu lazily drapes one leg off the side of the bed as he scrolls through his phone. Sakusa pegs the pack of wipes at him, but Atsumu sticks his tongue out and continues scrolling.

“What are you doing?” Sakusa pulls on his underwear and buries himself under his blankets. “Clean yourself up.”

“I will, geez. I’m just relaxin’.” Atsumu squints at his phone screen. Sakusa thinks Atsumu looks the most attractive this way, when his hair is smushed up against the headboard and his skin glistens with sweat. This sort of unbothered, unfiltered appearance looks good on him. 

“At least take off the condom.”

“For fuck’s sake. Okay. _Okay._ You’re so bossy.” Atsumu doesn’t even glance down when he peels it off with the snap of his wrist and tosses it into the trash. Sakusa wrinkles his nose. Disgusting.

“What are you doing?” Sakusa repeats, because Atsumu hasn’t answered yet and his eyes keep going back and forth across his phone screen.

“Wan-san sent me a suggested profile for you to update yer datin’ app profile with.”

Sakusa blinks. “What?”

“He said I know you better than anyone else on the team, so I should look over it before he sends it to you for review.”

Sakusa groans and buries his face in the pillow. He has half a mind to send a derogatory text to Inunaki, or maybe just block him completely. But Atsumu peruses the pseudo-dating profile with curious eyes.

“He’s right about one thing, though,” Atsumu says. He glances over at Sakusa with a small smile at the corner of his lips. “If you just updated yer profile, you’d find someone by now.”

“I’m not interested in that. I’m fine with what I’ve got.”

Atsumu’s eyes linger on Sakusa’s face. Sakusa doesn’t know what he’s looking for. “Are you sure?”

“Just drop it, Miya.”

Atsumu shrugs, and Sakusa rolls onto his back and rubs his face. The casual post-sex chatter is something Sakusa has also grown accustomed to. The first time, Sakusa had been so incredibly mortified that, as soon as he gathered his bearings, he yanked his clothes on and bolted for his apartment. It’s different now—the two return to their usual dynamic of annoying each other and getting annoyed, even after fucking.

“I’m just offerin’ an open door, Omi.” Atsumu finally tosses his phone to the side and settles under the covers. He still hasn’t wiped himself off, which should be gross, but Sakusa has grown accustomed to Atsumu’s less-than-hygienic mannerisms. “If you’re lookin’ for somethin’ serious and need to go find that, no hard feelings.”

Sakusa frowns at this. Atsumu turns to the side and dozes off, as is also part of their custom. He isn’t sure if the tinge in Atsumu’s voice is actually there or something he thinks he hears, or if it’s something he _wants_ to hear. If Sakusa wanted a way out of their arrangement, he would’ve taken it, so he’s not exactly sure why Atsumu insists on giving him one. He doesn’t need it.

It’s too much to think about and Sakusa’s brain is still coated in the aftermath of an orgasm, so he shoves his confusion to the side. He inches closer to Atsumu’s back, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from his body while he curls up and drifts to sleep. When Sakusa wakes up, Atsumu’s side of the bed is empty, and a fresh batch of dating-profile drafts are waiting for him in his inbox.

* * *

The first time Sakusa had an unusual thought about Atsumu was shortly after the Jackals returned from Barnes’ birthday celebration. Sakusa was already washed up and ready for bed by the time the rambunctious group stumbled through the staircase. Sakusa had gone to the bar, but left once Meian started egging Adriah on in a karaoke competition. He could deal with the Jackals when they were sober, but any amount of alcohol made them the most insufferable group of miscreants he’d ever been around.

The morning after, Sakusa went out for coffee. He was about to turn the corner in the hallway by his apartment when an unfamiliar face brushed past him.

Sakusa didn’t recognize him as one of their neighbors, but as he lifted his head, he saw Atsumu standing in his doorway, shirtless, yawning as he stretched. He wore a pair of Onigiri Miya sweatpants slung low on his hips. His hair stood up at odd angles, but by far the most noticeable aspect of Atsumu’s appearance was the impressive array of hickeys that dotted Atsumu’s neck and pecs.

“Oh. Mornin’, Omi.” Atsumu perked up at Sakusa as he shuffled over to his door. “Oo, didja get coffee from the Corner?”

“Um. Yes. Good morning.” Sakusa fished for his key and stuck it into his door. “You look like you had a full night.” He gestured vaguely in the direction of the stairs. “With your...guest.”

Atsumu snorted. “You look like you had a full night,” he said, “by yourself.”

Sakusa rolled his eyes and kicked open his door, and Atsumu laughed brightly, a sound that could be heard even once the door slammed shut. The image of Atsumu’s hickeys branded themselves in Sakusa’s mind, and he wondered if Atsumu liked having them there. 

* * *

“I have this cousin,” Inunaki starts, and Sakusa has to restrain himself from spike-serving a ball right in his face. “He thinks you’re really cute.”

“Inunaki-san.”

“Yes?”

Sakusa stares at him flatly. “I already said no.”

Inunaki crosses his arms when he frowns. Sakusa has decided that Inunaki needs to find a better hobby other than irritating him, but before he has time to say that, Inunaki continues. “I just don’t get it, Kiyoomi. Have you _really_ never had sex before? And you’re not interested in it?”

Sakusa blinks in surprise. That wasn’t the question he’d been expecting. “I wasn’t aware that my sex life was any of your business.”

“Okay. I’m gonna be honest with you.” Inunaki holds up a finger and Sakusa wants to snap it in two. Inunaki is supposed to be practicing his emergency sets to him, but—as always, when it comes to setting practice—Inunaki tries to derail things as much as possible. “Half the team thinks you were being serious. About the whole never having sex thing. The other half doesn’t. I honestly can't tell.”

Sakusa groans. 

“So you _have_ had sex.”

“For fuck’s sake, Inunaki-san. Yes, I have.”

“Word.” Inunaki nods, seemingly satisfied with this answer. “I’ll let the boys know.”

This information should not matter to ‘the boys,’ but Sakusa knows better than to argue. “Shouldn’t you be worrying more about yourself?” Sakusa has a small blossom of vindication when Inunaki scowls. “You’re still single, too, you know.”

“Don’t even remind me.” Inunaki sighs and picks up a volleyball, half-heartedly tossing it in a lazy arc so Sakusa can bump it back to him. His sets are acceptable, but Sakusa has an easier time adjusting to Atsumu’s tosses—as in, he doesn’t have to adjust to them at all. “Finding a decent woman to put up with me is way too hard.”

Okay, so Inunaki’s fixation on finding him a partner may be closely tied to his avoidance in confronting his very bleak status as a bachelor with no prospects. Sakusa almost feels bad. Actually, he _would_ feel bad, if Inunaki weren’t so damn annoying. 

“Are you seeing anyone?” Inunaki asks. There's a slight hesitation there, which is rare for Inunaki. “Atsumu mentioned that you might have a—”

“In what world would you ever listen to Miya?” At the mention of Atsumu, Sakusa turns his head to catch the moment a ball leaves Atsumu’s fingers, sucked right into the palm of Bokuto’s right hand. 

Inunaki shrugs. He bounces a ball against the ground as he considers this. “Just wondering.” They leave it at that. 

As they finish practice, Inunaki bolts—to share the news with ‘the boys,’ probably—and Sakusa lingers while Atsumu chats with Coach Foster. They do this, sometimes, when practice is too easy. Sakusa believes in rest, yes, but it takes a certain amount of physical exertion to feel like rest is needed. 

“Hey,” he says as Coach Foster begins walking away. Atsumu glances towards him. He has a towel around his neck that he uses to dab at the sweat collected on his forehead. 

“Omi-kun? What’s up?”

Sakusa licks his lips, which are salty from perspiration. “Toss for me? Just a little bit.”

“Any particular reason?” Atsumu’s eyes sparkle.

“Inunaki’s sets were terrible. As usual.”

Atsumu laughs and throws his towel to the side before joining Sakusa on court. Sakusa may not admit it or criticize Inunaki (too much) to his face, but hitting his tosses always leaves Sakusa feeling a bit dissatisfied. Inunaki isn’t bad by any means, and Hinata is a great setter, too. But both of them pale in comparison to Atsumu, who may very well be the best setter Sakusa has ever played with. 

Much like their fuck sessions, Atsumu never turns down volleyball practice. He could fuck or set a million times and never get tired of it, back-to-back, fast or slow, through the middle of the night and even if the world were ending. Miya Atsumu is hardwired for volleyball the same way babies are programmed to cry when they’re hungry. A lot of people consider him batshit crazy for it out of a mix of incredulity, respect, and fear. Sakusa is one of those people. 

But his hunger is infectious, and although Sakusa isn’t sure his passion will ever match Atsumu’s, he can feel himself rising to his level with every moment they spend together. It’s a little funny, because no one had expected him to continue playing volleyball in high school or university. No one expected him to readily drop everything and go for a professional career in the sport. Up until recently, he wasn’t even sure if he actually liked volleyball. He wasn't sure if he liked Atsumu, either. 

After all, Atsumu is a big fat jerk half the time. Atsumu challenges him in more ways than one. Mostly, he constantly tests Sakusa’s very limited patience. But as much as Sakusa hates to admit it, having Atsumu around has left a profound impact on him. He’s glad they’re friends. 

“Are you busy tonight?” Atsumu asks. He doesn't wait for a response as he sends a lazy four spiraling into the air, and Sakusa jumps up to it with both instinct and faith. The ball goes flying in a curve so sharp that it’s almost obscene.

Sakusa may not know how much he truly loves volleyball, but his brain swells with pride every time he spikes a ball. “Not particularly.” 

“I ain’t doin’ much if you wanna come over.” 

Sakusa tilts his head as he catches his breath. Atsumu props a hand on his hip. 

Sakusa should say no. They already saw each other last night and saw each other this morning, and then they had practice together and are now doing _more_ practice together. There’s no reason to see each other tonight, whether for sex or anything else. 

But Sakusa is surprised to find himself wanting to say yes. So he agrees to come over after dinner. And Atsumu’s smile is so wide that Sakusa’s stomach somersaults.

* * *

Word spreads fast on the team. As Sakusa and Atsumu wrap up their extra spike and set practice, Sakusa notices his phone going off with messages from the Black Jackals’ group chat. He sees one from Bokuto that starts with **I think kinks are** and promptly ignores it. 

“What is this about you actually havin’ sex?” Atsumu laughs quietly to himself. Sakusa takes a deep breath to combat the blooming endearment that echoes in time with his heartbeat. 

“Our teammates are ridiculous.”

“They’re just makin’ sure you’re a normal human and not some, y’know, sex-deprived robot.” Sakusa lobs a volleyball at him, but Atsumu lazily swats it away with his hand. “Ironically you’re prolly gettin’ laid better and more often than everyone else.”

Sakusa’s cheeks flame at the remark, and somehow, he manages to keep himself together as they shower and leave the gym together. They part ways at the complex, and Sakusa has a bizarre moment of realization as he unlocks his door that the space beside him—where Atsumu had walked—feels surprisingly empty. 

* * *

The only time Sakusa can remember Atsumu turning him down was when he felt a little under the weather. Atsumu hadn’t been physically ill nor had anything particularly bad happened, but he got pulled into one of his moods all the same. Sakusa figured he’d gotten in a fight with Osamu, or some sort of embarrassing public incident had happened and Atsumu put himself through the wringer of reliving the humiliation.

So when Atsumu had texted him to come over, Sakusa rightfully assumed it was a booty call. He'd taken a quick shower and threw on comfortable clothes that would be easy to discard. 

But when Atsumu opened the door, he didn’t look like he wanted sex. He looked like he wanted a hug.

“Um…” Sakusa was never good at feelings, whether his own or other people’s. “Are you okay?”

Atsumu shuffled to the side and didn’t answer, eyes downcast. He didn’t look like he'd been crying, but he didn’t exactly seem like he was ready to take a dick in his ass, either. “Come on in, Omi Omi.”

“I can leave if you—”

“No. You don’t hafta leave.” Atsumu shrugged. “But, uh, I ain’t gonna make you stay, either, if you don’t wanna.”

Sakusa entered Atsumu’s apartment. Interesting enough, his home was tidier and cleaner since Sakusa started coming over more. “Is everything okay?”

“It’s nothin’.” Atsumu shut the door behind them and barely glanced at Sakusa as he made a beeline for the bedroom. 

Sakusa frowned. He was used to Atsumu’s intense moods. Atsumu was volatile and expressive, never one to miss out on a dramatic moment, always one with the most knee-jerk reaction. 

Atsumu didn’t bother turning on the light and collapsed into the bed with Sakusa following closely on his heels, but Sakusa made no move to start anything. He tilted his head and squinted down at Atsumu, who rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, and tried to pick apart what Atsumu was thinking. Sakusa’s never been great at reading emotions, but Atsumu is especially difficult for him to make sense of.

“Clearly it’s something,” Sakusa said. “Do you want me to leave you alone?”

Atsumu breathed a heavy sigh. Sakusa was struck by how honest Atsumu’s expressions always were. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t keep his heart off his sleeve. “No.”

“You don’t really look like you’re ready to have sex tonight.”

“Sorry,” Atsumu mumbled. “I thought I was in the mood for some distraction or somethin’. But I guess I’m not.”

“Mm.” Sakusa sat on the bed next to him, stretching his legs out and leaning back on his hands. He hesitated. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Atsumu cracked an eye open. The smallest upward flicker of amusement ghosted the corners of his lips. “Are you tryin’ to be my therapist now?”

Sakusa rolled his eyes and swatted Atsumu’s legs, and Atsumu, with a confused scrunch between his brows, moved aside. Sakusa lay down beside him, mattress creaking under the weight.

“What are you doin’?”

“Lying down?”

“Uh.” Atsumu’s voice cracked mid-word. “Why?”

Sakusa shrugged and pushed at Atsumu’s shoulder until he flipped to his side, and proceeded to slide his arm around Atsumu’s waist. Atsumu was very huggable, he decided, even outside of a sexual context. The ends of Atsumu’s hair tickled his nose, and before Sakusa even noticed what he was doing, he buried his nose into the nape of Atsumu’s head, the smell of lavender and tea tree oil bringing him an odd sense of comfort. 

“Omi?” 

“Is this helping?”

Atsumu wiggled back and forth until his back pressed flush against Sakusa’s chest. “I dunno.”

“Do you want me to—”

“But it’s nice. Keep doin’ that.” Atsumu’s hand settled on the back of Sakusa’s, not quite holding it, but not _not_ holding it, either.

They didn’t say much after that, and eventually, Sakusa dozed off to the steady hum of Atsumu’s breathing.

Sakusa woke up with his neck aching and one of his arms dead asleep, legs tangled with Atsumu’s, who had rotated part way through the night and now slept with his limbs splayed out in starfish formation.

He couldn’t remember falling asleep, although he did recall Atsumu muttering a gentle good night and snoring not long after. Sakusa stood up and winced at the sound of his joints cracking. With one last look over his shoulder, he slipped out of Atsumu’s apartment. He was so tired that he failed to realize it was the first time they’d slept in the same bed together without the _sex_ part of their arrangement, and it was only after he fixed himself a cup of coffee that it dawned on him: this might actually mean something.

* * *

For all his social neediness, Atsumu is someone who—as Sakusa has come to learn—values having his personal space. Sakusa fits carefully into Atsumu’s apartment space, always wary so as to not bring too many of his own belongings. It helps that they live right next door to each other, so when Sakusa comes over, he never has to worry about forgetting anything.

Atsumu has turned on some cheesy Korean movie and brought one of his blankets out to share on the couch. Atsumu props his legs on Sakusa’s lap, back against the couch’s arm rest, as he stares intently at the screen.

Sakusa lays his arm on Atsumu’s shin. He isn’t sure when Atsumu started getting comfortable with him like this, comfortable enough to put his stinky feet right on his thighs. He isn’t sure when _he_ started getting comfortable with Atsumu like this.

Furthermore, Sakusa starts to become acutely aware of Atsumu’s eyes shifting from the screen to his face, and Sakusa rolls his eyes. He knows that look. He’s seen it a hundred times. It’s not like Sakusa’s been paying attention, anyway, so if Atsumu wants an intermission, he’ll grant him one willingly.

Sakusa turns to look at him, permission granted, and Atsumu grins and pulls Sakusa by the wrists, no words needed. They make out on the couch for an ungodly amount of time, like it’s their first time while also their last, and Sakusa has come to understand that this urgency is a sampling of Atsumu’s life philosophy.

“You wanna move to the bedroom?” Atsumu asks, words fragmented and strained, likely from Sakusa grinding his palm against his crotch.

“We can stay here if you want.”

“Mmph.” Atsumu tugs at Sakusa’s earlobe with his teeth before murmuring into his ear. “Let’s stay here.”

Sakusa pulls back a little. He drinks in Atsumu’s eyes, his mystified expression, his messy hair, how the neck of his shirt is shoved to the side to make way for the small hickey forming at the crux of his neck.

It strikes him then.

Sakusa likes him.

Like, _likes_ him.

It squeezes him into a shocked stillness. Sakusa notices Atsumu’s perplexed eyes before he recognizes that Sakusa is fucking terrified about this revelation. “Hey—”

“Uh.” Sakusa clears his throat and plops back on the couch. He’s ridiculously hard from just kissing, but the sudden moment of panic consumes his desire to take care of it. This is ridiculous. He’s just turned on and horny and Atsumu is there to do something about it. Sakusa does not _like_ Atsumu.

But there’s nothing platonic or even sexual about the way Sakusa’s heart jumps into his throat when he sees how devastatingly handsome and kind Atsumu looks in the dim glow of the television set. “Omi Omi? You good?”

“I gotta go,” Sakusa blurts, and he gets up to stumble out of Atsumu’s apartment. Atsumu lets out a strangled sound of protest, but Sakusa books it. His phone buzzes not long after he shuts the door to his apartment. He ignores it, opting instead to take a cold shower.

He supposes this is, after all, another ‘natural progression’. He’s spent too much time with Atsumu. He’s had too much sex with Atsumu. He’s thought way too much about Atsumu. So of course this would happen.

Sakusa decides to reel himself in. It’s not a big deal. It’s a small inconvenience that he can fix with a cleanse that lasts a couple days, a couple weeks, tops. He’ll go cold turkey. The _nothing_ in all-or-nothing. Once Sakusa’s head clears, things will be back to normal.

He already expects that Atsumu will be offended by it, but he shoves the thought away. This isn’t for Atsumu’s sake, anyway—it’s for his own. Maybe Atsumu will be pissed, but he’ll come to understand why Sakusa has to shut him out for a detox. Afterwards, they’ll return to their regularly scheduled programming of deep dicking and deep throating, and any bitterness Atsumu might harbor towards him will be a thing of the past.

But as Sakusa settles into his bed for the night, Atsumu’s face flashes through his mind, body craving the warmth of his back, and he realizes that a detox might be harder than he expected.

* * *

So the thing about his past relationships is: Sakusa isn’t quite sure it can even be called that. Sure, he’d liked Ushijima as much as the next person, and he’d liked Iizuna more than he was probably willing to admit at the time. Sakusa had gone on dates during university, and he’d had a few flings here and there with other people in the professional volleyball scene.

But Sakusa Kiyoomi always struggled to conceptualize what a ‘relationship’ entailed. His relationship with Ushijima had been clean, from beginning to end, a picture-perfect memory he can look back on, an item pulled from life’s to-do list. There were no grand gestures or huge moments or big fights during, and there were no big fallouts after.

That’s all he can think about it, though. Clean. Picture-perfect. Something to knock off his to-do list.

His relationship with Ushijima hadn’t been passionate, either, and Sakusa had come to accept that not everything was as exhilarating and sensational as movies made them out to be. Besides, Sakusa has never been passionate about things, much to Komori’s frustration, or maybe it’s more like bewilderment. He’s a stubborn asshole who refuses to quit on things, sure, but he’s not passionate. 

So why does Atsumu ignite a hunger in Sakusa’s chest?

Sakusa previously thought it was because he wanted to get laid, not because he wanted—well, whatever it is he wants. He isn’t even sure what he’s looking for. Maybe Sakusa’s getting bored. Maybe he’s getting tired. Or maybe he’s desperately trying to come up with excuses, and those excuses are starting to dwindle, leaving Sakusa with the very fact that he’s been trying to avoid since day one.

Either way, the hunger is there, marching on in solitude. It leaves Sakusa gutted and torn and wondering what the fuck he’d been thinking when he got himself tangled up in this situation in the first place.

* * *

Steering clear of Atsumu is a temporary measure, of course, because there’s no way he’ll be able to avoid Atsumu forever. It’s impractical, given that they’re on the same volleyball team right now and it doesn’t look like either of them are moving on from the Jackals just yet.

The first few days are tough. Sakusa has grown accustomed to doing the following with Atsumu: fucking several times a week, commuting to and from practice together, sharing a bed together, cooking meals or ordering takeout together. It’s strange going from spending consistent downtime with another person to being alone once again.

But the break is necessary. It’s crucial time for Sakusa to collect his thoughts and return to his roots as a level-headed person. 

At first, Atsumu pesters him. He comes knocking on Sakusa’s door demanding Sakusa’s specialty kimchi fried rice, but Sakusa doesn’t answer. He responds to Atsumu’s text messages with a curt, **I’m busy**. He refuses to linger too long in the locker room after practice, and leaves late every morning to avoid taking the trip with Atsumu.

It takes four days for Atsumu to finally catch a hint. Sakusa silently promises that things will go back to normal soon, once his mind stops seeing Atsumu as he drifts to sleep and his hands stop itching to fit themselves in the delicate dip of Atsumu’s waist.

It takes five days for Atsumu to adjust. He sends one last message: **I hope you’re not mad at me but if you are then please tell me when you’re ready to.** Sakusa reads it and a foreign sting hits his ribcage.

He wants to respond right away and assure Atsumu that he isn’t mad, but that violates the unofficial contract he’s committed to. Plus, he’ll have to explain why he’s shoving Atsumu out of his life in the first place, and that’s a giant can of worms Sakusa would rather not deal with. 

He’ll give it two weeks, then things will return to normal, and he and Atsumu can go back to being good friends and going grocery shopping together and having sex. Normal things.

* * *

This time, it’s Adriah who tests his patience.

“So I hear you have a secret boyfriend now.”

Sakusa huffs and sends Adriah an exasperated look. “This is news to me.”

Adriah smirks. His dark eyes are way too mischievous for someone who’s supposedly the nicest person on their team. “You don’t have to hide anything from me now, Kiyoomi.”

“Did Inunaki-san tell you this?” Sakusa regrets coming out to dinner. They’re at a barbecue restaurant within walking distance of the Jackals complex. Sakusa hadn’t wanted to come, but Meian enticed them, promising that it would be his treat. 

“And if he did?”

Sakusa knocks back a glass of soju and reaches for a refill. It’s one of those days: they’ve had their asses kicked in practice and he’s exhausted. He can tell his teammates are, too, what with the way Hinata’s head rests on the table and Bokuto says half the amount of words that he usually does. But this doesn’t stop Adriah from continuing to get on every single nerve in his body.

“Then I’d tell you all to stop playing absurd games of telephone.”

“So you don’t have a secret boyfriend?”

Sakusa rotates the shot glass on the table with his fingers. He’s keenly aware of Atsumu laughing loudly at something Barnes just said, and a strange nostalgia courses through his throat. “No.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m pretty sure I’d know fully well if I were seeing someone, Adriah.”

“If I ask you something,” Adriah begins. He holds up the half-empty soju bottle and points it in Sakusa’s direction. “Do you promise to answer truthfully?”

Sakusa sighs. He snatches the soju bottle out of the way, setting it beside him, and picks at the pickled vegetables laid in front of him. “What is it?”

Adriah grows uncharacteristically quiet then. He almost looks embarrassed, if ‘embarrassed’ existed in Adriah’s limited range of emotions. “I saw, uh, your thighs a few weeks ago. In the locker room.” Adriah’s face reddens. “I mean. Without your shorts on.”

Sakusa frowns. He has no idea why Adriah should be staring at his thighs. It’s actually kind of inappropriate.

“You had, uh, hickeys.”

Oh.

_Oh._

Sakusa’s face warms. He was pretty sure that he’s been careful about changing discreetly and excusing himself to the toilets if there are any marks that can’t go unmissed. His eyes track over to Atsumu, who has no idea that this conversation is occurring three seats down. 

Atsumu, that bastard. Always insisting that hickeys are hot and not just some juvenile way of marking one’s territory.

“So obviously you’re seeing someone in some capacity or another.” Adriah fiddles with his chopsticks, flicking them up and down with his fingers. He lowers his voice. “We were talking about how you don’t really share much with the team. And we just wanted to make sure the reason you’re keeping things from us isn’t because you’re uncomfortable.” Adriah clears his throat. “With us.”

Sakusa is always uncomfortable in one way or another. He’s uncomfortable right now. But Adriah doesn’t seem to notice, and continues on.

“So it’s pretty obvious you’re, uh, sexually active.”

Sakusa pinches the bridge of his nose. Did the words ‘sexually active’ really just come out of Adriah’s mouth? Is this really happening? At a team dinner?

“You don’t have to tell me if you _really_ don’t want to. But the whole team’s wondering if—”

“Yes, I’m seeing someone,” Sakusa blurts. This conversation is entirely too painful. If there’s a way to put a stop to it, Sakusa decides that he will.

“Oh?” Adriah brightens. “Really?”

“Yes.”

“Who?”

“Miya.”

Adriah frowns. “Osamu’s engaged.”

Sakusa stares unflinchingly.

It takes a few seconds, but Adriah’s jaw drops. “You’re dating _Atsumu_?”

Technically they’re not dating.

Atsumu hears this and immediately twists his head to stare. His eyebrows shoot halfway up his forehead and Sakusa immediately regrets saying anything. Because Atsumu isn’t the only one who catches wind of Adriah’s exclamation: the entire table of Black Jackals pause whatever side conversations they’re having to tune in.

Adriah whips his head towards Atsumu and jabs an accusatory finger. “You told me you weren’t seeing anyone!”

“I—”

“You lied to me. To my face.”

“I didn’t realize we were goin’ public with this,” Atsumu says. He laughs breathily, but it sounds far too manufactured to be genuine. He gives Sakusa the same alarmed look he’d given the time Sakusa asked if Atsumu ever had a threesome. “Omi-kun.”

In response, Sakusa knocks back another drink, Atsumu’s eyes boring holes into the side of his skull, and he sighs. Adriah catapults into a rant about transparency amongst teammates—which is a very long winded confession detailing that he’s nosy as fuck—and Meian and Bokuto begin interrogating Atsumu about the ins and outs of how it happened.

Atsumu stumbles through it, leaving it intentionally vague, and Sakusa feels a little sorry. He hadn’t meant to leave Atsumu to clean up with his mess, especially after essentially being a dick for two weeks. After the initial wave of questions, Atsumu stares pointedly at Sakusa.

Sakusa forces a smile in acknowledgement, expecting that his detox will probably end tonight.

* * *

Atsumu catches him by the elbow as they’re beginning to leave. Adriah and Inunanki snicker as they pass by, and Meian kicks at them in the shins to get them to shut up.

“Omi-kun, walk with me.”

Sakusa nods absentmindedly. The dinner took a lot out of him, partially because he was mortified that he blurted it out in the first place.

They hang back from the rest during the trek home. Atsumu doesn’t seem upset, which is a good thing, but he’s also not saying anything, which is a bad thing. Every so often, Sakusa will glance at him, expecting to find something there, but Atsumu is neutral. Their hands and arms brush every so often, and Sakusa wants nothing more than to reach to the side and grab ahold of Atsumu’s palm.

Atsumu breaks the silence. “Can I come over?”

Sakusa nods wordlessly. He tells himself the detox worked, that it’s safe to proceed as before, but even he knows that’s a lie.

* * *

The weird thing about friends with benefits is that sometimes the benefits don’t really play out the way that they should. It should be clinical, procedural, _boring_ , even, in a sense that all Sakusa should expect is sex and sex only. Nothing should surprise him.

But there was a time where he and Atsumu had too much to drink and too little to eat, and ended up giggling as they made out on the carpet in the living room. They hadn’t gone further than kissing that night, but Sakusa found that he loved the way Atsumu’s tongue ran along his teeth and how his rough hands cupped the crevices of Sakusa’s jaw.

They made out for hours, taking breaks intermittently to laugh about the fact that they were kissing on the floor like silly high school students, and eventually fell asleep draped over one another in Sakusa’s bed. This wasn’t part of the procedure. It wasn’t clinical. And it sure as hell wasn’t boring. 

Nothing about Atsumu is procedural, clinical, or boring. And Sakusa likes that.

* * *

“Do you mind explainin’ to me why you just told our entire team that we’re datin’ even though you’ve been dodgin’ me for weeks now?”

“It hasn’t been weeks.” Sakusa holds up two fingers. “It’s only been two.”

Atsumu glares at him. Sakusa licks his lips and climbs onto his bed, expecting Atsumu to follow, but Atsumu merely stands there, arms crossed. 

“What the fuck are you orchestratin’?” 

“I’m sorry.” Sakusa rubs his hand over his temple as he pulls a pillow to his body. “Adriah was just so _annoying_ that I just...snapped.”

“So yer solution was to tell everyone we’re datin’?”

“...Yes?”

Atsumu groans. “Y’know you coulda just told them we’re fuckin’, right? Since that’s what we’re doin’.” Sakusa’s heart clenches. “Or that it was a one-time deal. Or—I dunno. I don’t even know what we’re doin’ right now. On account of you ignorin’ me.”

“We are,” Sakusa assures him, “fucking.”

“We are?”

“I mean, not this instant.” Sakusa pulls at Atsumu by the arm, and Atsumu resists, but only a little. “Unless you want to.”

Atsumu shakes his head, and he jerks his arm away from Sakusa’s grip. His face looks like he’s just taken a bite out of an onion. “You’re bein’ weird, Omi Omi.”

“ _I’m_ being weird?”

“Yes, you’re bein’ fuckin’ weird, and I don’t know what you’re tryna do here. I’m confused, because I thought we had a good thing goin’, then you went and started pretendin’ like I was last Thursday’s trash dragged out to the curb.” Atsumu heaves a frustrated sigh and collapses onto the corner of Sakusa’s bed. He’s entirely too far away, and Sakusa finds that he wants to close the distance between them, but he’s afraid of how that might breach their no-strings-attached agreement.

“I’m sorry I—”

“So I’m gonna be up front with you, Omi Omi. Since you really suck at it.” Atsumu shifts to his knees and sticks his face into Sakusa’s personal space. 

Sakusa’s eyes widen at the sudden proximity. He can count each individual eyelash running along Atsumu’s eyelids.

“Do you like me?”

Sakusa snorts before realizing that it’s a serious question.

“I’ve been tryna make sense of you the past few months, Omi-kun, and all I’ve concluded is that you’re hopeless.” Atsumu bonks his forehead against Sakusa’s, keeping it pressed there. “You keep sayin’ you ain’t interested in a relationship, that you want nothin’ to do with Inunaki’s matchmakin’ services…” Atsumu’s voice trails off as his eyes scrutinize Sakusa in a way that makes him feel excruciatingly naked. “But I don’t think that’s true.”

“What are you getting at, Miya?”

“I’m gettin’ at the fact that you’re already balls deep in a relationship, and you don’t even realize it yet.”

Sakusa frowns. He’s not in a relationship. He feels like he’d know if he were. “I thought we were pretty clear from the beginning that this arrangement was strictly sexual?”

“So you’re gonna sit there with a straight face and tell me that you ain’t interested in doin’ more than just fuckin’ me?”

Sakusa swallows. “I’m not.”

“I got bad news for you, Omi Omi.” Atsumu pauses with a stubborn raise of an eyebrow. “We do more than just fuck.”

“No, we don’t.”

Atsumu squints as if to say: _are you fuckin’ serious?_

Sakusa purses his lips as he considers this. He pulls back slightly, but Atsumu grips his shoulders even tighter. Atsumu has a funny expression on his face that makes it seem like either wants to kiss him or punch him or maybe a bit of both, and Sakusa blinks. _Duh_ —they do more than just fuck. They play volleyball together. They eat lunch together. They take naps together. They lug their laundry down the street to the laundromat together.

For some reason, the laundry is what drives the point home.

It isn’t groundbreaking news, but Sakusa’s dumbfounded by this detail and any implications it might hold.

“Hah! I knew you were clueless.”

“It’s not—we’re not—” Sakusa sputters for the right words, but he comes up short. Moments of domesticity and intimacy that Sakusa never had even with his exes—is _that_ what it means?

“So lemme ask you again.” Atsumu rips Sakusa from his thoughts with a throaty laugh. He pushes Sakusa’s hair to the side and pulls back just far enough that Sakusa has a gratuitous view of Atsumu’s entire face. “Do you like me?”

It’s different, this time, seeing Atsumu with a fire in his eyes, which Sakusa thought related to sex and sex only. Maybe he’s misinterpreted other things, too. Maybe he’s misinterpreted Atsumu. Maybe he’s misinterpreted everything this whole time. But there’s nothing ambiguous about what he’s seeing now.

Sakusa gazes up at this son of a bitch blonde asshole who’s better known for his setting skills than his lion heart of gold. Sakusa quietly resigns to the fact that he values both in a way that maybe goes beyond other people's feelings towards Atsumu, and he can’t stop himself from being honest when he answers, “Yes.”

Atsumu breaks into a large smile so stunning it almost hurts, and he topples onto the mattress and yanks Sakusa on top of him. Sakusa barely has time to recover from the impact of crashing into Atsumu’s body when Atsumu’s mouth finds his, and Sakusa is pleased to find that two weeks without kissing only makes actual kissing so much better.

As much as Sakusa enjoys the sex, Atsumu is an excellent kisser; verbal sparring isn’t his mouth’s only useful skill. He kisses with an unmatched earnestness that leaves Sakusa’s head spinning and his dick throbbing, but the most jarring sensation is the ever growing affection nestled in Sakusa’s chest.

“You don’t hafta officially date me if you don’t want to.” Atsumu shoves Sakusa’s shirt out of the way, allowing him to pull back long enough to yank it over his head. Sakusa kneels above him, straddling Atsumu’s hips, and he looks down at Atsumu with curiosity and confusion.

Atsumu’s lips are a vibrant pink, and his hair is splayed across the blanket. He clears his throat and his eyes wander. “If that’s not yer thing, that’s okay. I just needed to know if you liked me, too. But no datin’, no problem. No hard feelings, Omi-kun. We can keep doin’ what we’re doin’ and not—y’know.” Atsumu stares at the ceiling. “I’ll leave it up to you.”

Sakusa doesn’t answer as he considers this. He’s not quite sure what dating means, even after doing it a handful of times, but if dating is just whatever they’ve been doing with a label on it, then maybe it’s not too bad.

He plants two firm palms on the expanse of Atsumu’s chest. He pushes hard enough that he can feel Atsumu’s erratic heart rate, and luxuriously trails down Atsumu’s body, past his stomach, past his navel, and Atsumu’s breath hitches as Sakusa looks up, hand wedged between them. “Are you sure about that?”

“Are you really gonna—” Without any preamble, Sakusa shoves his hand past the waistband of Atsumu’s pants and underwear, pleased to find that there are, in fact, hard feelings. Many of them.

Running his hand up and down Atsumu’s length feels natural. He’s done it more times than he can count and he knows when to apply more pressure and when to back off. He knows that Atsumu drinks his coffee with a spoonful of sugar and that he calls his parents once a week and that he enjoys being the little spoon. These are simple facts that Sakusa has only just noticed may not be common knowledge among casual friends with benefits.

He fucks Atsumu this time, taking it slow and easy. Atsumu asks for more, and Sakusa readily gives. He intertwines their fingers together, rolling his hips with leisurely movements, and he whispers confessions into Atsumu’s skin about all the different ways he’s enjoyed Atsumu slipping into his life.

Afterwards, when Sakusa slumps against him, Atsumu tries to sit up, but Sakusa shoves him back down, pulling him into a cuddle.

Atsumu fits perfectly into his body like this. It’s funny how Sakusa never noticed.

“So does that mean we’re datin’ now?”

“I thought you said we were already dating.”

“Well.” Atsumu wiggles a bit and Sakusa winces at Atsumu’s ass brushing against Sakusa’s sensitive nether regions. “I wanna hear you say it.”

Sakusa digs his chin into the comfortable crook of Atsumu’s shoulder as he murmurs, “Date me, Atsumu.” Atsumu laughs and responds with a soft _okay._ His thumb rubs small circles on the back of Sakusa’s hand, and as they lull into a comfortable silence, Sakusa thinks to himself, _I could get used to this_ —only to realize, in a vivid moment of clarity, that he already has.

**Author's Note:**

> [ SETTING: 21 January 2021, middle of day, while sending an email to someone at work ]  
> "I'm going to write Hannah a 'friends who boink' fic," she said.  
> "It'lll be short," she said.  
> "It'll be simple," she said.
> 
> Name a dumber bitch than me. This ended up becoming one long-winded nonlinear sex joke in which Sakusa bears the brunt of the punchline. Anyway.
> 
> Now with art by [Inan](https://twitter.com/Ynasnt)!


End file.
